


The Shadow Knows

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: House M.D., Lie to Me (TV), The Mentalist
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Awkward Crush, Banter, Best Friends, Books, Chips - Freeform, Confidant Wilson, Crossover Pairings, Dead Ends, Drink With Me, Embarrassment, Gossip, Investigations, Learning to Lie, Manipulation, Multi, Multiple Crossovers, Public Humiliation, Suspicions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2745209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through a series of lies, Cuddy goes out on a date with a handsome blond stranger and infuriates House with a complete lack of information about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shadow Knows

“What is this?” Teresa Lisbon asked dubiously as Grace Van Pelt nudged a simple red package onto her desk.

“Just open it,” her agent urged.

Stifling a small sigh (she didn’t like people going out of their way getting gifts for her), Lisbon tore off the wrapping and opened the box, coming up with a rather nice hardback book. Raising her eyebrows, Lisbon read the cover aloud: “ _Lies We Tell_ …?”

“This guy—” Van Pelt gestured to the name of the author. “—Cal Lightman, he’s a genius. He watches tiny facial expressions to tell when someone is lying! I just thought it could be helpful to read, for interrogation purposes.”

“And _maybe_ for reining-in-Jane purposes,” Lisbon realized, glancing up at Van Pelt and running a far more appreciative hand over the cover.

888

Patrick Jane stood leisurely from his couch, glancing gingerly at his empty stomach with a short consideration of nosing through the CBI office fridge and seeing what scraps could be found. When he saw Lisbon shrugging into her coat, he realized he might have a chance of something better.

“Lisbon! Where are you going?” he called, approaching his friend and personal handler.

“Home,” Lisbon answered shortly, pursing her lips. “I’m ready for a cup of tea.”

“I love tea,” Jane reminded her cheerfully. “Can I come with you?” It may have just been weariness, but Jane was suddenly aware of the upward-inward pull of Lisbon’s eyebrows, as though she were consternated or…afraid of something; at the very least, apprehensive.

“No, Jane, I’ve got a date.”

“Really? You just said you were going home.”

Lisbon stood frozen for a second, her eyebrows pulling in further and her lips thinning. Jane noted each of these with a carefully measured amount of wariness, but some spilled into his voice as he asked, “Why are you lying to me, Lisbon?”

Lisbon cursed quietly and half-turned away, clearly frustrated. “I should’ve spent more time on it,” she muttered.

“On what?” Jane demanded.

“The lie!” Lisbon burst out, planting her hands on her hips. “I was doing just fine, but the ‘date’ thing slipped out and…ugh.”

“ _Why_ are you lying to me, Lisbon?” Jane repeated, a tad more forcefully. This revelation that he couldn’t trust Lisbon to tell him the truth, unwittingly or otherwise, was mildly disturbing.

Lisbon looked quite embarrassed. “I’ve been…I’ve been reading this book and—”

Jane held out a hand, nodding toward her purse. “Give.”

After a long moment Lisbon relented and handed him the prize. He studied the hardcover carefully and then made his way back to his couch.

“Aren’t you going to leave?” Lisbon asked after him.

“Oh, no, you’ve given me something far more interesting now,” Jane answered half-absently as he stretched out and began reading the introductory page. He noticed a guilty cup of tea made its way onto the desk nearby and swore to drink it…right after this chapter…

888

Somehow it was nearly closing time, Ria Torres realized, but every member of the Lightman group was still in the building. The latest case had been a long one and it seemed as though everyone were having trouble summoning the energy to get into motion towards home. Not only that, an old friend of Gillian Foster had popped in for a visit at the last minute. It was an unspoken rule that until Gillian was in the process of leaving, no one else left.

“I’m gonna be the first,” Torres told herself, breaking the rule and forcing her sore legs down the hall toward the front entrance. She was surprised when she saw a well-built blond man standing in the middle of the hall, studying the facial expressions on the wall and murmuring under his breath. Torres opened her mouth to tell him they were closing, but before she could, she overheard what he said.

“Frustration. Disbelief. Purpose. Bitterness. Optimism. Serenity. Distraction…”

Torres followed his gaze and realized he had gotten all seven expressions exactly right at a first glance. “You’re impressive,” she commented, half expecting him to startle. He simply pivoted toward her and smiled in rueful amusement.

“Thank you. I assume your building is closing and I’m that last-minute customer.”

“I’m afraid so,” Torres said apologetically.

“So Dr. Lightman has already left?” Torres opened her mouth and then the man nodded. “Oh, he’s still here. Is he busy or…?”

“Oh. I don’t know. Right now he and Dr. Foster are having a personal visit,” Torres explained. As if on cue, voices could be heard coming down the hall.

“It was great seeing you again,” Gillian was saying contentedly to the dark-haired woman who walked with her.

“You too, definitely. I hope to do this again, but House really keeps me on my toes.” The visitor laughed mildly. “I have to admit, Gill, that’s the only reason I was able to keep up with Cal for so long.”

Gillian nodded sympathetically. “I thought so.” When she turned her attention toward Torres and the man, her head tilted slightly in confusion. “Torres, who’s this?”

“Oh, this is…” Torres paused, embarrassed that she had neither introduced herself to the stranger nor gotten his name.

“Patrick,” the stranger announced, his warm aura and outstretched hand helpfully smoothing over the awkward moment. “How do you do?”

“Well,” Gillian replied, shaking the hand. “I’m Dr. Gillian Foster and this is my friend, Dr. Lisa Cuddy.”

“Hello,” Cuddy greeted him with surprise and pleasure in her tone that no one had any trouble noticing.

“Yes, thank you.”

Cuddy looked momentarily taken aback as he clasped her hand. “Wh-what?”

“You just invited me for a drink and I accepted,” Patrick explained with a devious smile.

888

“Something is wrong with Cuddy,” House insisted, leaning across the desk into Wilson’s face.

“Saying it five times isn’t going to make me believe it,” Wilson replied, reaching for the bag of chips at his elbow. House grabbed them at the same time, halting them in midair.

“House, you already stole my sandwich and soda; you're not getting these!” Wilson protested, crackling the bag.

“She’s been grinning like an idiot ever since she came back from Washington. I have a fast metabolism, I need to eat!”

“I paid for this so _I_ could eat it—and since when is there a difference in your mind between our regular smiles and our idiot smiles?”

“I didn’t say _yours_ was any different, I just said _hers_. You pay for all of my food too!”

“Well, not today!”

“Food gives me strength for the pain,” House tried. “And it keeps me from being nauseous when I take my pills. Give!”

When the bag of chips exploded all over Wilson’s desk and carpet, the mournful expression on his friend’s face _almost_ made a dent in House’s walled heart. Stuffing the handful of chips he’d managed to catch into his mouth, House crunched loudly and remarked, “Distraction neutralized. Go to Cuddy’s office and do whatever you do that makes her confide in you.”

With a familiar sigh of longsuffering, Wilson stood, carefully stepping over the chips scattered about so they wouldn’t break, and went for the door.

“Oh, and later you’re gonna teach _me_ how to do it,” House added cheerfully.

Wilson stopped at the closed door but didn’t turn around. “House…Cuddy wouldn’t confide in you if you were her shadow.”

“Ooh, I’d have curves!” House mused with sarcastic enthusiasm, leaning forward and rolling his feet over each of the chips Wilson had avoided, pressing the fractured crumbs deep into the carpet. House watched Wilson fight the urge to cringe as he hauled open the door and stomped down the hall.

888

“Cuddy! Wilson told me about the dumb blond you seduced in Washington!” House shouted from across the busy clinic. “Let’s go gossip in a corner about how hot he is!”

Cuddy’s face turned crimson with embarrassment and rage as she stormed toward him, her expression promising retribution that would never come. House would make quite certain that this next conversation would convince Cuddy to forget the date in Washington ever happened.

“House, I swear, sooner or later I’m going to find out something awful about you—” Cuddy began as soon as the door to Wilson’s office closed. Wilson looked up from his papers, startled by their sudden entrance. When he saw House’s smug grin and Cuddy’s outrage, he knew exactly what was going on.

“Sorry, Cuddy—”

“I don’t know why I come to you,” Cuddy interrupted heatedly. “I ought to know by now that everything I say gets to House!”

Wilson’s expression was that of a puppy which had tinkled on the floor _after_ being trained against it.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” House stood up for him quickly. “If you did, I wouldn’t get to think about being your shadow!”

“What?” Cuddy sputtered as Wilson’s mouth drooped even further. “What are you—?”

“Never mind.” Looming over her with a wide grin, House whispered theatrically, “Let’s gossip about your boyfriend!”

“It was one date, House!” Cuddy complained. “And I’ll have you know it was one of the _best_ in my _life_!”

“Messenger?” House tilted his head expectantly toward Wilson.

“I already told you that.”

“But there’s obviously something you didn’t tell me, or you wouldn’t still be hunching your shoulders. Don’t make _me_ shoot you.”

Cuddy tried to push House out of the way, disregarding his bad balance. “Wilson…!”

“She…she said he was the ‘nicest comparison of House she’d ever met’,” Wilson mumbled shamefacedly.

House burst out laughing. “You’re going out with _comparisons_ of me!” Pivoting towards the couch, House innocently began humming ‘The Heart Will Go On’. Once he was seated, his face darkened. “Who was he?”

Cuddy threw up her hands. “I don’t know. His name was Patrick and I actually quite enjoyed going out with him but I don’t think I have any chance of finding him again! It’s not like I can hunt down all the Patricks in Washington!” With a last death glare at the both of them, Cuddy turned and tried to slink away with dignity.

There was a long silence. “Come sit down, Wilson,” House said at last. “We’ll start with Patrick Aaron.”

 


End file.
